


The Book of Revelation

by choir_of_one



Series: JonElias Week 2020 [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bit of Violence/Injury, But Spoilers for Seasons Four and Five, JonElias Week 2020, M/M, Statements and Religious Themes, Visions, set in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choir_of_one/pseuds/choir_of_one
Summary: Jon is eager to show Elias his success with the tape recorder. Elias, in turn, shows him the world as it was meant to be.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: JonElias Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896295
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	The Book of Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> For Jon/Elias Week Day Four: Statements/Religious Themes.

“…I find it oddly hard to shake off the impression that it’s beckoning. End recording.”

Jon let out a heavy sigh, dragging his hand across his face and letting it rest in his palm. This was his second attempt at recording and for some inexplicable reason this time around he found himself exhausted, shaky, and scared. As he’d read this one before, he shouldn’t feel any new anxiety or dread, right? Were these just new job-related jitters? He had to admit that he hadn’t slept well the past couple of nights- in fact, they were mostly spent staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning, wondering exactly what he was supposed to do with Gertrude’s mess. Especially with some of the trickier statements; how was he supposed to go about ‘digitizing’ the archives if he had to use old, outdated technology to do so? Still, the recorder was his last hope- if this didn’t work, he’d have to ask his team to get creative.

Heaving another sigh, he rewound the tape and pressed play.

“ _Test…test…”_

Fast forward.

“ _Statement begins. This all happened a couple of years ago…”_

Jon couldn’t stop from giving a triumphant ‘ha!’ at his accomplishment. _It works!_ No static or distortion, no warbling, inhuman tones. He stood up, ignoring the subtle black spots at his vision as he stumbled to the doorway to wave the tape recorder at his assistants. “Look! It worked!” His voice continued to drone on from the player but Jon was too delighted at showing off his accomplishment to pay it any mind.

Sasha laughed and Tim let out a congratulatory “whoop!” with a fist in the air. “We’ve got lift off!” he cheered. “Seriously though- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, boss-man!”

“Yes, well-" he cleared his throat and stopped the recording, suddenly conscious of his voice in the background. The irritating black dots at his vision seemed to intensify, and he felt a bit unsteady. “I’m just glad we’ve got a solution.”

“Any chance you did AmDram in college?” Sasha inquired slyly. _Do not engage, Jon- you’re their boss now._ “You seem to _really_ get into character there…” Tim began to snicker.

“Absolutely not,” Jon cut them off, his throat suddenly dry. “I’m going to tell Elias of this new development, so if you’ll excuse me…” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room in an unsteady gait, ignoring the continued teasing from behind him. _Pull yourself together, good lord. Why do I feel so weak?_ So focused on his destination, Jon didn’t realize the barrier in his way before he bumped headlong into it. _Martin._

“Oof! Sorry there, Jon! Are you alright? You look really pale-"

“ _Yes,_ Martin. Now if you’ll please get out of my way,” Jon snarked. _I need to sit down before I make a fool of myself._ He swerved around Martin, who was still stammering, and shockingly made it all the way to Rosie’s desk before he found himself swaying in place.

Rosie stood and reached out an arm to steady him, clearly alarmed. “Mr. Sims! Is everything alright?”

_Do. Not. Pass. Out._

“Yes,” he mumbled to the ground, steadying himself against her desk with one hand and waving her off with the other. “I just wanted to tell Elias-"

“There’s my new archivist!” the man himself appeared in the doorway, smiling before he paused to take in his sorry appearance. “Goodness, Jon. Let’s get you sitting down, yes? I’ll take it from here, Rosie- no need for a scene.” Jon was dimly aware of a gentle hand on his arm, guiding him forward while his vision swam. Whatever this was- exhaustion, sickness- it had set in quick with no mercy. He grumbled something which could have been ‘thank you’ or ‘get off me,’ but Jon couldn’t be bothered to follow what precisely came out of his mouth. After a minute or so of hazy blankness, he came to the realization he was already sitting down on Elias’s couch, the man himself just inches away and gazing at him with such open-faced concern that he couldn’t meet his eyes. “S-sorry about that, I just-"

“No need to explain, Archivist,” Elias said soothingly, one hand patting his arm in comfort. _Oh. That’s good._ “I assume you’ve found a solution to your statement issue, yes?” He gestured down to Jon’s hands which still clutched the tape recorder in a white-knuckled grip.

“O-oh, yes. Very strange, but-" Jon let out an involuntary yawn, which he quickly attempted to cover up with a hand. Elias favored him with an amused smile; he still hadn’t let go of his arm. “No distortion this time. I- I’m really quite sorry-"

“Jon,” the way he said his name- warm and yet somehow adjacent to mockery- “These statements can take a lot out of those who…aren’t quite used to them, you could say. You’ll need building up, in that regard.” Jon returned his smile, though he couldn’t say why. “Would you say that there was anything different about this one, in particular? As opposed to the others that you’ve recorded.”

“Yes,” he immediately replied. _Wait_. He hadn’t meant to say that, but words tumbled out of his mouth, eager to confess what his mind willed him to keep private. “It was…uncanny. The words, the stranger- ‘can I have a cigarette?’” At this point, Jon was unsure whether he was recounting the question from the statement or making the request himself. Elias didn’t respond, and Jon continued in the vein of uncomfortable honesty. “I need to…I need to know more. Please.” _What are you asking Elias for?_ His vision swam again, and he found himself sagging in his seat, only kept upright by the strong hands that now gripped him urgently. With great effort, he brought his eyes up to meet Elias’s intense, piercing gaze; eyes that seemed to rip right through him, scattering his defenses.Jon had never realized how incongruent the eyes were to the man; there was a power to them, as if they were an entity all their own.

“Are you afraid, Jon?” The question was urgent, but barely audible.

“Yes,” he found himself whispering back, facing the man without blinking. This seemed to be the correct answer, as Elias Bouchard’s face broke out into a wild grin.

“ _Perfect.”_

As his vision faded to black, he could have sworn he felt the feather-light press of lips to his forehead. But that couldn’t be right.

He wasn’t sure where he went, in those moments. It was more solid than a dream, but it was no reality he’d ever seen. The world was _screaming_ , somehow, but it felt familiar; soothing even. The fear was his air to breathe, his to know and own and delight in. Was he in the archives? It certainly felt like it, but it wasn’t cramped or dark- it was all-encompassing. The world was now his Archive and he sat at it’s altar, words spewing from his mouth unbidden- a chant, a prophecy, a prayer. Elias stood behind him, keeping him steady, as steady as the knife he held against his neck. He didn’t feel the puncture of the blade, even as the blood spilled from his neck onto the statement in his hands and the arms that held him. Blood that wasn’t even blood at all, dark and black and inky as it was. He Knew he was an offering, a sacrifice. But he would be rewarded- he and his Watcher in the new world they were creating. Elias tilted his head to the sky ( _That’s not Elias anymore, he has a different name- a name you Know and will grow to worship and hate in equal measure)._

“Look at the sky, Jon,” he whispered lovingly into his ear, even as the blood continued to spill from his neck. “It’s looking back.”

Jon had never been a religious man. Never felt the call of God in the dusty old church he frequented as a youth. Never said his prayers, even in the darkest of times. Why pray to something that gave no answer?

But here, under the crushing and knowing gaze of that terrible, bloodshot Eye, he thinks he knows the religious ecstasy that all those saints preached about. Under the Eye, he is complete.

He is Holy.

It blinks.

He awoke, strangely, to the sound of his own voice- an academic, lower cadence he used for recording that now, upon playback, seemed unnaturally rigid. _A character, like Sasha said_. The lights of the office seemed much dimmer as he blinked into awareness- he was lying on Elias’s couch, the only light coming from a lamp on the man’s desk and the low, blinking red of the recorder. The man himself was sitting at the desk, listening intently with his fingers interlaced and resting against his chin. He looked like a man deep in thought, or perhaps prayer.

_“…end recording.”_

A click. Silence. Jon sat up on the couch, flushed red and very aware of the eyes now focused on him. He awkwardly began to stutter an apology.

“This is really very embarrassing- sorry to trouble you with this, I should probably-"

“I think you’ve earned a bit of rest, yes,” Elias interjected, rising from his chair and making his way over to the couch. He loomed over him, not unlike a hunter making itself known to prey. “After all, you’ve done so _very_ well today.” The tape recorder was placed back in his hands, the weight of it like an anvil anchoring him to his seat as he struggled to rise.

A helpful, steadying hand on his back. Jon mechanically made his way to the door, tape recorder clutched to his chest like the miracle it was.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day, hm?”

“Yes,” Jon whispered, sotto voce. “I think I will.”

Both knew this was a lie.

Jon wandered back to his office, like a sleepwalker guided by a beckoning master. He felt different, changed from the ignorant child who excitedly went to tell Elias of his progress. He ignored the probing glances from his assistants _(irrelevant, a means to an end)_ and closed his office door. He did not remember his vision, but that was alright. He tried to think back to his conversation with Elias before he fainted like some Victorian damsel, but to no avail. Only one phrase came back to him- _I need to know more_. He flipped open the next file, gazing at the words in front of him.

_Statement of Joshua Gillespie- November 22, 1998._

He would show Elias he was worthy of this gift. He had a mission, a purpose. 

And it was time to get to work.

**Author's Note:**

> I like the thought that deep down, Jon unconsciously knows what he's working towards. And he likes it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know how you liked.


End file.
